


Where they're meant to be

by ChocoNut



Series: Modern JB love [72]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Only they end up having sex this time, Passionate Sex, Red Tent scene redone in modern setting, Riverrun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:21:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29021901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: “I’m here to ask you for a favour. It’s about the Blackfish lawsuit.”A frown tells her he isn’t open to the subject, but he steps aside, nevertheless, invites her in. “That’s a goner as far as he’s concerned. What do you expect me to do?”“Call off the legal proceedings and I promise I’ll negotiate with him on your behalf for an off-court settlement. You will have your deal but without the bloodbath a legal battle’s going to lead to.” She knows this is going to be difficult, but this is the best she can do for Sansa.ORThe Riverrun Red Tent scene re-created in modern times. Only this time, Jaime chases after his wench.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Modern JB love [72]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557871
Comments: 13
Kudos: 80





	Where they're meant to be

“Brienne!”

She stands at the door, feasts her eyes on the man she hasn’t seen for more than two years. Still as handsome as ever, even at over forty, he’s every inch the irresistible Lannister any red-blooded woman would go weak in the knees for.

Flustered more than she’d anticipated, she decides to get straight to the point and get this done with. “I’m here to ask you for a favour.” Two people who’d been through so much together once despite being at odds with each other, they’d parted company on an amicable note even if their loyalties tugged them towards opposite sides of the battlefield. That unspoken comfort is what has brought Brienne to his doorstep tonight. “It’s about the Blackfish lawsuit.”

A frown tells her he isn’t open to the subject, but Jaime steps aside, nevertheless, invites her in. “That’s a goner as far as he’s concerned. What do you expect me to do?”

“Withdraw your case,” she proposes. “Be the bigger man and—”

“—just let go of the deal?” He looks away. She can’t see his face but his deep breaths give away his indignation.

“Call off the legal proceedings and I promise I’ll negotiate with him on your behalf for an off-court settlement. You will have your deal but without the bloodbath a legal battle’s going to lead to.” She knows this is going to be difficult, but this is the best she can do for Sansa. If only he—

“Fine.” He turns to her. “If you can manage to convince the Blackfish to cooperate—” His eyes challenge her to try it whilst at the same time offer her his full cooperation. “He’s more stubborn than you are.”

 _Stubborn wench_. That’s what he used to call her in their earlier days, and even later on, playfully. He’s managed to touch her in ways no one else has. She’s missed him like crazy. She always will.

“Thank you.” It’s time to leave, but there’s a reluctance within her that wishes to prolong this to as long as she can. And unable to battle it, she lingers, holds back until she remembers something else. “This—” she fishes out a jewellery box from her bag and hands it to him. “I can’t keep this anymore.” 

Green eyes narrow down to disappointment and hurt as he stares at the ruby encrusted brooch. “It’s yours—”

Blinking away the threat in her eyes, she turns to the door. “Not anymore.” There’s no way she can wear that lion any longer without thoughts of him invading her mind, no way she can retain anything to do with him without suffering this pain of never getting to be with him. Away from here and out of his sight would help, sure, and she steps outside, but stalls again, recalling something more she’d rehearsed for on the way here. “One last thing, Mr. Lannister.”

“Yes, _Ms.Tarth_?” There’s a teasing lilt to the way he addresses her, but that’s only because he can’t keep away from pulling her leg.

“Should I fail to coax the Blackfish and should you decide to go ahead—” She grips the doorknob so tightly that her fingers start to turn numb. But this is better. At least the pain is dulled away. “Duty compels me to fight the case on Sansa’s behalf.” Gone is the faint trace of amusement in his eyes. “To fight _you_ ,” she makes it absolutely clear, the ‘ _you’_ barely a whisper she has to force out.

He nods slowly, his Adam’s apple nudged out of its place. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

They stand there locking their gaze for a second or two, but when he says no more, makes no attempt to draw her into a conversation or ask her to stay for a while, her heart plummets. Unable to hold on to this pull he has on her, worried her eyes might give away her feelings, she turns back, and hoping she’d never have to see him again, she hurries down the stairs. What the hell had she been thinking? That he’d follow her downstairs and confess how badly he wants her? That he’d take her in his arms and kiss her passionately? That he’d ask her to spend tonight and every other night with him?

“Never going to happen,” she mutters to herself, her chest heavy and aching despite her visit ending in success. “He’s never going to—”

“Brienne—”

Hope knocks at her heart with its feeble fingers, and she holds back, her chest tightening as he rushes down to catch up with her. 

“You can’t just—” he begins, but breathless, he halts, opens his fist to unveil the little box he’s brought back. “It’s yours.” He thrusts it back into her hand, closes her fingers around it, his curling over hers to seal this—whatever this is. “It will always be yours.”

“Jaime—”

“So we’re finally back to _Jaime_ then.” Something in his gaze touches her—something her heart has been yearning for since that morning she bid him goodbye despite her brain chucking it away as impossible. “How can you even think of returning a gift, wench?”

She tears free of his gaze, looks down at the box, then back at him. “Why did you—”

His lips are the answer. The gentle touch they meet hers with that quickly turns into something urgent—his raunchy kisses are the unspoken pangs of his heart, what he’s been carrying within him for years. Suddenly this cold January night feels very different. Suddenly, the sun’s shining despite the moonlit sky outside. It’s hot—hot everywhere, around her, within her. His body on hers, he pins her to the wall. Her hands all over him and his freely roaming hers—her hair, his chest, her ass, his back, her—

His hand grazing her breast, her fingers brushing his crotch—they pant against each other’s lips. “Upstairs,” he hoarsely suggests, his eyes already beginning to make love to her. 

The hairs on her neck stand up in agreement as everything else drifts away from her head. With her eyes, she tells him she’s been wanting this for ages. With a blink, she urges him to hold her hand, promising, if he does, she’ll never let go of him. A lot more than that, she wants to tell him, but a throbbing deep down impedes her speech, the surge of adrenaline beginning to rip her to shreds.

When he takes her hand, she tries to breathe, but the butterflies in her stomach join the hormonal rush. Together, the sensations create havoc within her. She knows she’s blushing hard, but she has no will to hide anything from him. She probably might go pieces before they even get down to anything, but how will she know if she doesn’t give it a try? He’s not Renly—pity is not what he feels for her. He’s not Ron—condescension, once, though, he was brimming with it for her, it has long let go of him to pave the way for something else. 

When he leads her up the stairs, she’s soon out of breath—not because of the exercise. They head for his place, frantic to get indoors, hoping no neighbour chooses this moment to intercept them. He fumbles through unlocking the door, kicks it open and pulls her in, and when they’re safely shut into their privacy, his mouth promptly claims hers again, her back pressed against the door.

Palm to palm, he holds her in place whilst ravaging her with red hot kisses. He hums hungrily, kisses her deeper when she kicks away her shoes to stroke his calf with her heels. Breasts squeezed against his hard chest, she whirls off along a heady spiral when his tongue explores, swirls around hers as their fingers entwine as one. 

Bodies collide, grind together then pull away as they dry-hump each other, the passion now getting out of control as their groins kiss. 

So hard—fuck so hard, he is, and she—

He draws away sensing the same, and what follows is like a scene playing in fast-forward. 

All she knows is that they’re on his bed, naked and needy. How they got there, tore each other’s clothes off is immaterial. All that matters is her body’s blazing response to his—it’s like a match thrown into a bale of hay. And he instantly combusts, joins her—which is the hay and which one the match—there’s no telling the difference anymore. 

Stiff nipples, parted lips thirsting to be ravaged, heavy breathing, panting, chest hair— _oh, that chest hair—_ they’re all that and nothing else. 

She wants that hard cock inside her, but he pins her to the mattress, the intensity of his gaze telling her he has other plans. Then slowly, and _oh-so-softly_ , his tongue parts her swollen lips, and with lazily luxurious licks, he moves down, then all the way up again. Moaning, she squirms when his wet swipes spar with her wetness.

A cry leaves her throat—she needs that explosive touch pressed hard against her clit. And he gives her just what she’s thirsting for, probing her, punishing her with his lips and tongue. 

He thrives in her pleasure, and she, in what he’s doing to her, and again, it becomes a haze, a flurry of sensations too hot to handle. His mouth drooling in want, his tongue exploring—all she can do is retaliate with her nails dragging down his back. The more she thrashes around him, the more aggressive he gets, his breath the fire to her unquenchable wetness. 

When she comes hard, he kisses her cunt, feasts on her nectar, the spoils of his victory.

She’s still screaming inside. Screaming for more.

He relaxes his hold, but only for a bit, and before she can find her senses again, he’s on her, nibbling and sucking as his mouth latches itself to her breast. Lips tightening, he holds her nipple hostage, his insatiable mouth slurping away hungrily. His hand is back to her soaked folds, beginning a slow dance around her clit, and together with his mouth on her tits, he’s a force unstoppable. 

Throbbing and aching and writhing for more, she clings on to him, groping and pinching, when his teeth press into her skin, eager to get past the finish line, yet, wanting to go back and begin all over again. He wears her down, holds his ground, takes her to another torrid climax that leaves her panting, scratching helplessly at the sheets and dripping with her release and the need to cross all lines tonight.

He lets go, but only to grab a condom. She gets on her knees, watches, and when her impatience cuts down a temptation to take this slow, she shoves him down on the mattress and straddles him. Hot and ready, she takes him in, the first thrust, truly exquisite.

On her second plunge, she goes right down to his balls, impaling herself, swallowing every enticing inch of his thick shaft.

Then the ultimate journey begins. He doesn’t hold back. Nor does she.

She rides him with wild abandon, and he’s an able match for her. Stroke for stroke, his lust mingles with hers as their bodies bounce and crash into one another, and just when they settle into a hectic rhythm, he flips them over. 

He covers her mouth with his, her cries lost down his throat when she spreads her legs to allow him deeper, to let his fingers play their tune again. Faster, he goes, thrusting and pumping, his horny cock wanting it all deep and delicious, her pussy insisting on nothing less.

He kisses her nipple, caresses her tummy, thrusts harder.

She shudders, squeezes his butt, leaves nail marks all over that’ll make their presence felt when this has all cooled off.

He tastes her throat, nibbling, leaving little love bites, his breath on her sensitive neck making her squirm, making her draw her hips up to meet his pounding strokes. Everything he does feels just right. 

_One… Two… Then a third deep thrust.._

Like a strand of thread in a needle, they move as one. Soft cries, gentle whispers of nothing and everything, their grunts, their pleas to each other to put them out of this misery—all this they are, two voices, two bodies, but unified in their passion, burning in the same flames of desire. He claims her spirit and she claims his, and with every kiss, every sigh and every slap of flesh on flesh, this bond only grows stronger.

_Oh, yes, stronger…_

He fills her with steady, quickening thrusts, the soft squelch of her walls against his taut length drawing them closer.

_And deeper into each other…_

He brings down this massive wall she's put up around her, introduces her to sensations she's never been acquainted with before.

He closes her mouth with a kiss, drowning her gasps, and she trembles in his embrace, her soft belly quivering against his, her breasts pressing against his chest. A moment later, everything is a haze. She’s all sensations and nothing else. Stretching, the tension and a lot more she can’t describe even in her head. A little whisper in her ear, a softly passionate, “Brienne,” it boils down to, and then she’s gone—trembling and twitching, she’s truly his. 

_Always yours,_ she weakly exhales, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He holds for a moment, holds her in an intense gaze, then grabs her hips, and chasing his own release, goes again.

_One… Two… Then a third…_

She can feel his stomach tighten, the veins on his neck straining as he freezes. He grips at her hair painfully, lets loose a feral groan when his mouth collapses on hers again. The rush he’s experiencing—she can feel it, too.

And she can feel the waves of his release strike her with their force when they drown him, when he falls limply on to her.

He stays in her warm embrace, lips caressing hers, breathing her in, summoning his breath back. This moment—such beautiful contentment and fulfillment she’s never felt before—she wants to trap it and imprison it someplace secure, never to let it go. 

When the world around her falls back into place, when thoughts other than him slowly crawl back into her mind, she runs her fingers through his hair. “Jaime, where does this leave _us_?” For a few precious minutes, reality had faded out of existence, but now they can no longer run away from it.

Jaime rolls off, pulls her to his chest. “Where we were always meant to be.” His eyes are contentment and deep affection. So is her body, her heart. “I think you know I wasn’t just talking about the brooch earlier, Brienne.”

 _It will always be yours—_ these are the only words in her head now. 

She snuggles closer, lets his heartbeat take over her senses. This is the only thing that matters. The rest—their problems, their loyalties and other complications—they can all be worked out in due course. 

For now, despite the pitch black of the night, it’s sunshine in their world. All is well.

**Author's Note:**

> Since I had this already written, I thought I'll put it up, but with this, I'll be taking a break from these smutty one-shots for a while.  
> Thank you for reading and all the support!


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